Life and Fate (New York Review Books Classics) by Vasily Grossman

Author:Vasily Grossman [Grossman, Vasily]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781590176542
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2012-06-12T16:00:00+00:00

1 The Russian word khren is used in an expression meaning ‘old sod’.

22

Old Polyakov arranged for Klimov, the scout, to take him at night to Regimental HQ; he wanted to find out how things were with Seryozha.

‘That’s a splendid idea, old man,’ said Grekov. ‘You can have a bit of a rest and then come back and tell us how things are in the rear.’

‘You mean with Katya?’ asked Polyakov, guessing why Grekov had been so quick to agree.

‘They left HQ long ago,’ said Klimov. ‘The commander had them both sent to the left bank. By now they’ve probably already visited the registry office in Akhtuba.’

‘Do you want to cancel our trip then?’ asked Polyakov pointedly.

Grekov looked at him sharply, but all he said was: ‘Very well, then. Be off with you!’

‘Very well,’ thought Polyakov.

They set off down the narrow passage about four in the morning. Polyakov kept bumping his head against the supports and cursing Seryozha. He felt a little angry and embarrassed at the strength of his affection for the boy.

After a while the passage widened and they sat down for a rest. Klimov said jokingly:

‘What, haven’t you got a present for them?’

‘To hell with the damned boy!’ said Polyakov. ‘I should have taken a brick so I could give him a good knock on the head!’

‘I see!’ said Klimov. ‘That’s why you wanted to come with me. That’s why you’re ready to swim the Volga to see him. Or is it Katya you want to see? Are you dying of jealousy?’

‘Come on,’ said Polyakov. ‘Let’s get going!’

Soon they came up to the surface and had to walk through no man’s land. It was utterly silent.

‘Perhaps the war’s come to an end?’ thought Polyakov. He could picture his own home with an extraordinary vividness: there was a plate of borshch on the table and his wife was gutting a fish he had caught. He even began to feel quite warm . . .

That night General Paulus gave orders for the attack on the Tractor Factory.

Two infantry divisions were to advance through the breach opened by bombers, artillery and tanks . . . Since midnight, cigarettes had been glowing in the soldiers’ cupped hands.

The first Junkers flew over the factory an hour and a half before dawn. The ensuing bombardment was quite without respite; any gap in the unbroken wall of noise was immediately filled by the whistle of bombs tearing towards the earth with all their iron strength. The continuous roar was enough to shatter your skull or your backbone.

It began to get light, but not over the factory . . . It was as though the earth itself were belching out black dust, smoke, thunder, lightning . . .

The brunt of the attack was borne by Byerozkin’s regiment and house 6/1. All over that sector half-deafened men leapt drunkenly to their feet, dimly realizing that this time the Germans really had gone berserk.

Caught in no man’s land, Klimov and Polyakov rushed towards some large craters made by one-ton bombs at the end of September.

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